


and these scars that won't go away

by la_victorienne



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-04
Updated: 2009-01-04
Packaged: 2018-10-16 00:55:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10560652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_victorienne/pseuds/la_victorienne
Summary: jack has been gone for such a long time.





	

"How like a winter hath my absence been  
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!  
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!  
What old December's bareness everywhere!"

\- William Shakespeare,  
Sonnet 97

Jack has been a long time gone.

Even with gaps in his memory, even with gaps between life, he knows for certain that he has been away for much, much too long – even if, for Ianto, the time away was but hours. Jack should never have parted a second from Ianto’s side, not a moment, not even a breath, and now he is here to redeem himself for the parting.

And they are tired, both tired, so much wearier than their bones have ever known, but Ianto still drives Jack home, helps him off with his dirty coat, kisses him sweetly in the entry hall and manhandles him into the shower, where his movements are quick and efficient rather than warm and enticing, even if Jack does stay under the spray until the water runs cold. Ianto does each of these things more reverently than he’s ever done before, as if their ritual can eliminate the time gone, as if his slender, lovely, talented hands can erase what has already come to pass. And indeed, for a night, Jack believes they can.

Ianto takes his face in his hands, though they’re dripping onto the bath mat, and kisses him slowly, with no mind to let go. Jack’s hands very slowly come to rest on Ianto’s arms, feeling the muscle that has developed over the past year, and stay there; in this kiss there is healing, and passion, and patience, and Jack can feel the magic in their stasis, in their focus. He understands – Ianto is trying, in his own calm way, to ground him.

But Jack has been gone too long for that, under the earth with empires rising and falling above him, history he learned as a Time Agent taking place over his body, and he is still a man, though an imperfect one. So he pushes, and Ianto gives, and they are walking in circles toward the bedroom, even as wet as they are, and there is nothing slow or gentle or focused about this, and Ianto gives no indication that he wishes it to be.

Jack crawls up Ianto’s body, kisses him against the headboard, pins the backs of his hands to the window behind, their long fingers entwined with his own large ones. His knee is between Ianto’s legs, his thigh just barely brushing Ianto’s balls, soft skin to strong muscle, and Ianto slides into the contact, arching into Jack’s mouth, tempting, teasing. How does he know that this is just what Jack needs? Someone to grapple with, someone to hold – there is very little romance here, but the time for romance is long over, and Ianto meets Jack push for push, turn for turn, until the sheets are well askew and Jack is flat on his back, feet apart, Ianto kneeling over him with his mouth on Jack’s jaw.

“Come on, Captain,” he says huskily, and Jack is immediately at attention, if he weren’t before – Ianto _never_ calls him Captain, in the bedroom or out, and he feels a thrill run up his spine at the darkly-mouthed words, straight from Ianto’s kiss-swollen lips. “You don’t want to be at my mercy tonight, right? Spent too long helpless, locked there in the damp, and need a little control? Well, I have news for you, _sir._ You want the control? _Take. It. Back._ ”

This, what they’re doing here, is no longer a game, a few harsh words whispered in jest, to add a hint of innovation to what they’re doing. This is a flat-out battle, a knock-down, drag-out struggle for dominance between Jack and himself, between Jack and his own violent fear. But it’s _Ianto_ , too, and Jack knows that he’s doing this to save him, any way he knows how – so Jack takes the gift in the spirit in which is offered, and neatly flips Ianto over, crushing him swiftly with both his body and his mouth. Their cocks rock against each other, once, twice, and Jack would almost be content with just that, but he is the _Captain_ , and he will have _anything he wants_ , and he wants to bring Ianto off without laying a single finger on his darkly flushed cock, sunk so deep he doesn’t know where he is, so that’s exactly what he does.

After, when Jack has risen to run warm water over a flannel and the sheets are almost straightened again, he draws the sleepy Ianto close, spooning comfortably against him. Ianto makes a contented sound and lays his own arm over Jack’s, just a hint of possessiveness that brings a smile to Jack’s face.

“Thank you,” he whispers against the finely curled hair at the nape of Ianto’s neck, his nose brushing against Ianto’s skin.

“Oh, aye? And what for?” Ianto manages, accent all the thicker for its mumbling.

“Just for knowing,” Jack finishes, and kisses the skin beneath his mouth, sighing. He won’t sleep, but he’ll wait until Ianto does. Because he, too, knows just what Ianto needs.


End file.
